


The Thrill of the Hunt

by vega_voices



Series: You Are Like That, [5]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Revulsion, Season 4 Episode 5, god they are idiots, i like them more than i want to admit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: “B’Elanna,” she heard him say. Damnit. Please, let there be something that came up. Something to pull him back inside. Anything but having to face him. Gods and Kahless. What if he didn’t feel the same way? But she couldn’t ignore him. Not any longer. She hadn’t pledged to accept whatever the Day of Honor gave her only to turn her back on that promise the moment she had to be honest with her feelings. She could hide from the confession all she wanted, but she’d still told the truth.
Relationships: Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: You Are Like That, [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861696
Comments: 18
Kudos: 34





	The Thrill of the Hunt

**Title:** The Thrill of the Hunt  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Star Trek: Voyager  
**Series:** You Are Like That,  
**Pairing:** B’Elanna Torres/Tom Paris  
**Rating:** E for sexyfuntimes  
**Timeframe:** Revulsion (S4, E 5)  
**A/N:** **1.** This is the first in my Voyager series. If you are new to my work, please know that I can’t seem to write my stuff in any kind of chronological order, so if you like what you read, just check back for new installments in the series, and hang on for the ride. **2.** The name of the series is inspired by the poem of the same name by Tess Gallagher. **3.** Credit for the dialog directly from the episode goes to Lisa Klink.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not in fact make any money from the fic I write. In fact, shouldn’t I be working on my original stuff ….?

 **Summary:** _“B’Elanna,” she heard him say. Damnit. Please, let there be something that came up. Something to pull him back inside. Anything but having to face him. Gods and Kahless. What if he didn’t feel the same way? But she couldn’t ignore him. Not any longer. She hadn’t pledged to accept whatever the Day of Honor gave her only to turn her back on that promise the moment she had to be honest with her feelings. She could hide from the confession all she wanted, but she’d still told the truth._

_You are like that,  
a moon, and then the night sky  
around the moon, a voile-blue  
made whole by phases  
as the moon tries to submerge itself and  
fails.  
From: You Are Like That, by Tess Gallagher_

Really, B’Elanna just wanted Tom and Harry to stop talking about how they’d programmed the computer to torment Tuvok all day long. She wanted to be able to escape back to her quarters and away from the taut thread still bonding her to Tom, that whispered confession that she’d hoped only the stars could hear.

What in Kahless had she been thinking?

Well, she knew what she’d been thinking, and it was stupid to ignore it. She’d let it get into her head that some dumbass ritual about growing into maturity was going to get her more in touch with … what, exactly? Her feelings? Klingons were nothing but feelings - one big feeling, sweeping through the universe, destroying everything in its path. It wasn’t like she needed to be prodded with painstiks to acknowledge she was a Klingon. The turtle-headed ridges that stared at her every morning in the mirror were an ever present reminder. Why the hell did she even care about it or any of these other rituals she’d run from all her life? It wasn’t like she ever had wanted to deal with this part of herself before. It wasn’t like being Klingon had ever done a damn thing for her.

But being out here, away from any part of her heritage save what Tom put together in the holodeck, and what she wanted to pick apart from the ship’s database, away from everything except the few things she’d been able to salvage from the ship when they all ended up in the Delta quadrant, she felt the weight of every ridge on her forehead and spine. When she sculpted her hair into the straight bob she preferred over the wild curls of its own desire, she knew she was Klingon. When she lashed out physically, her voice roaring over the pulse of the warp core, she knew, all too well, that she was Klingon. And everyone she worked with did too. If that kept them away, all the better.

But Tom, Tom wasn’t scared of her. Worse, he cared that she was Klingon. He cared because it was a part of her and that bothered the crap out of her. See, if she let him get too close, if she let him see that it mattered to her that he cared, if she let him see that she cared about him, then her whole cover would be blown.

But then again, to be fair, they’d been suffocating out in the vastness of space and she hadn’t expected to wake up in sickbay all the while hoping he hadn’t remembered that she’d let him know that somewhere along the way, between Klingon romance novels and dinner and workouts on the holodeck, she’d fallen in love with him. She’d somehow fallen for a guy who didn’t think it was cool to be around the Klingon chick, she’d fallen for a guy who, despite all outward appearances, really wanted to get to know her. She’d fallen for a guy who loved to fly, who actually hated Starfleet but was as stuck as the rest of them, and who couldn’t find a cause to stick to not because he didn’t care but because he cared too much.

She wasn’t the only one who walked around projecting an image of herself to the universe, hoping everyone else fell for it.

So, out in the vastness of space, in some truly Klingon show of affection, she’d told the flyboy she was in love with him and then fully expected to gasp her last breath, be dragged to the gates of Sto'Vo'Kor, be deemed unworthy, and left to figure out what the hell her human side believed happened after death.

Would Sto'Vo'Kor even let in someone with half-blood? The nuns at the monastery had never really answered that question for her. They’d been too busy filling her head with mythology and names that didn’t seem to trace anywhere. She’d wanted answers to the gaps in Klingon history. They’d wanted her to hide her human side.

Now. Now she was here and fine and on the ship and alive and so was Tom and every Klingon smokescreen she threw up to hide herself didn’t matter because every time he looked at her, she could tell he remembered exactly what she’d said and he was as awkward as she was and this was stupid. She was twenty-six years old - which meant nothing in the realm of age and love, but everything in what she’d lived through. She was the chief engineer on a starship and she commanded the ranks around her and she couldn’t even talk to the man she was supposedly in love with about her feelings.

God, why couldn’t the universe have just swallowed her up? Or at least killed off one of them. She could have moved on from their few kisses and the long lingering looks. She could have tucked him into her heart and just moved back to the warp core but now she was sitting across from him at Tuvok’s promotion dinner and she just wanted to die. Up until now, she hadn’t had to face him. Now, all she could do was stare at his chin or her plate or anywhere but those blue eyes that just weren’t worth her time but all she wanted to do was fall into his arms and see if he could hold his own in bed as well as he could when sparring on the holodeck.

Maybe if she finally climbed on top of him - like she tried to do once and he wouldn’t give in and she still thinks about how he didn’t take advantage of her and damn if it didn’t prove he’s at least a decent guy - but maybe if she finally climbed on top of him, she could rid her system of this itch and then move on with her life. There were more than a few maquis here on Voyager that she’d once shared a bed with, and she was able to work just fine with them. But then again, she hadn’t been in love with any of them. Physical release was always better after a firefight.

How Klingon of her.

Somewhere in the midst of her daydreams, things were finished and B’Elanna jumped to her feet, desperate to escape. She’d been here long enough to be polite. Patting Tuvok on the back, she fled for the door, glad no one really cared if she was here or not, trying not to feel Tom’s presence behind her.

“B’Elanna,” she heard him say. Damnit. Please, let there be something that came up. Something to pull him back inside. Anything but having to face him. Gods and Kahless. What if he didn’t feel the same way? But she couldn’t ignore him. Not any longer. She hadn’t pledged to accept whatever the Day of Honor gave her only to turn her back on that promise the moment she had to be honest with her feelings. She could hide from the confession all she wanted, but she’d still told the truth.

She, B’Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral, was in love with the flyboy, Thomas Eugene Paris. And may Kahless have mercy on her soul as he let her down easy.

So, she turned. Realizing all too well how they were in a corner by the mess hall entrance and her back was to the wall and she couldn’t flee. Not this time.

“This is ridiculous,” Tom said, his voice … was he nervous? No. Why should he be? It wasn’t like he’d put his heart on the line while they were dying. “It’s been three days, and we haven’t said a word to each other.”

Quickly, she crossed her arms over her chest, protecting herself. Let this be over quickly. “I know, I know,” she stumbled out, “we have to talk.” In the back of her mind, she heard her ancestors screaming at her. How human of her to run from her feelings like this.

“About what you said … I mean …”

She forced her eyes up to him. She could meet his rejection head on and then move on.

“... the part about being in love with me.” He was stumbling over his words and she just wanted out. Why couldn’t the ship go to red alert? Why couldn’t he just tell her to get over herself? “I realize you were suffering from oxygen deprivation, and we were literally seconds away from death, so I know you probably didn’t mean it …” Was his voice wistful? Was he letting her down easy? B’Elanna glanced at the floor, gathering herself, the honor she’d demanded of herself the other day in the face of oblivion. She could hold onto that and at least be honest, even as he was letting her down.

She took a breath. “Oh, no, no,” she stammered, “I meant it.” His face looked like she punched him so she steamrolled ahead. Anything to get out of this literal corner. “But I don’t expect you to reciprocate, really.” They were friends. They were just friends. The flirting and occasional kissing wasn’t anything to take seriously. “Uh, you can just pretend that I didn’t say it. In fact, let’s just forget that I even said anything. I really --”

And then he did what she’d been waiting for, what she needed, what surprised the hell out of her. He pushed her back against that wall in this literal corner. “Shut up,” he commanded as his body pressed against hers and his hand trapped hers and his lips descended on hers, claiming her.

It wasn’t their first kiss, or even the second. Even under the influence of that damned pon farr situation, she’d felt how good it was to have his mouth against hers. Since then, there were the stolen kisses after dinners and walks on the holodeck, weird almost-dates that were more than friendship but not quite yet romantic and somewhere in all of that, this arrogant human had made his way under her skin. Because Tom wasn’t an arrogant human. He put on airs because it was expected of him and she knew that because she saw how his eyes lit up when he talked about his favorite holo novels and how much he loved the feel of actual books and the smell of fresh air on the beach. The holodecks never quite got it right and it bothered him.

Were they still in the hallway?

“Mr. Paris, there you are.”

Fuck. Yes, they were in the damn hallway. Where everyone could see them. What would the captain think? Chakotay? The rest of the crew?

“I was just leaving,” B’Elanna muttered, angry for putting herself in this position. Couldn’t they have had this conversation in her quarters? “Lieutenant,” she acknowledged as she raced away, feeling Tom staring after her, praying he’d follow. That kiss deserved some follow up. She was off shift. Was he still on duty?

Racing into her cabin, B’Elanna counted to ten in English, Spanish, and Klingon before finally regaining her composure. So, Tom had kissed her. Hard. In the hallway. Telling her to shut up her rambles. God, she was fifteen again and crushing on Talo Jen’i. Her heart hadn’t raced quite like this in quite some time and she needed to get it under control because she wasn’t fifteen and she had a department to run and a ship to take care of and the captain was a surprisingly patient and welcoming woman but she had a feeling she wouldn’t take too kindly to her chief conn officer and her chief engineer acting like … like what? Like the Captain and Chakotay did every time they were within ten feet of each other? She wasn’t blind to how they looked at each other. Did the captain see how B’Elanna looked at Tom?

Well, that calmed her down. The last thing she needed to think about was whether or not the Captain and Chakotay were doing what she wanted to do to Tom.

Two deep breaths and B’Elanna walked across her cabin to pull a pair of leggings and a loose tank top out of her dresser. Things were up to Tom now. He could find her when he was done with the Doctor and she had to get herself under control. Adult Klingon hormones were somehow worse than teenage human ones.

“Bridge to Torres.”

Damnit. “Yes, Captain?” She raised her voice and eyes to the comm system.

“Please report to the shuttle bay. I’m sending you on an … unusual mission. We’ve detected a distress call from a holographic crew member on a ship and you’re going with the Doctor to help determine what went wrong?”

“The Doctor?” B’Elanna dropped the casual clothes onto her bed, already mentally prepping any additional needs for her go-bag. All she’d have to add was the tool kit for the mobile emitter.

“He raises the point that he’s the most qualified to deal with this situation. And he wants you with him.”

She almost laughed. She would have if every nerve ending in her body wasn’t pricking with painful demand for release. “Understood.” Cutting the link, B’Elanna took another breath, shaking off the moment in the corridor.

Her door chimed. Damnit.

“Yeah?”

The door slid open to reveal the object of her obsession and B’Elanna’s sense of decorum lasted just long enough to pull him inside. Tom’s mouth was on hers, her arms were around his neck and it wasn’t until he’d backed her against the bed that she was reminded of her current orders.

Damnit.

“I have to be in the shuttle bay with the Doctor in two minutes,” B’Elanna groaned as she broke the kiss. His hand was on her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple through three layers of fabric and the rough friction was enough to make her toes curl.

He grinned playfully and bent to bite her neck. “I can do two minutes.”

B’Elanna wasn’t sure where the groan she emitted came from but she realized she had dug her nails into the soft flesh above Tom’s hip. Nipping his neck in return, she forced herself to push him back a step. Just a step. She rolled her eyes. “You know, that’s not exactly something to brag about.”

He kissed her. Hard. “I’ve already done romance.”

“So what, we admit our feelings and it’s all done for?” She was teasing but terror flashed through her. Kahless she was bad at this.

Tom growled and pulled her back against him again, his mouth on her neck, his hand tangled in her hair. “I’ll romance you until you can’t see straight, but right now, I want you naked and around me.”

Oh this wasn’t fair. A chirp cut the air. “Shuttle bay two to Lieutenant Torres!” The Doctor’s voice interrupted them. “We should get going.”

“Fuck,” B’Elanna moaned and again pushed Tom away. She ducked past him and grabbed her go bag. She still had to stop in engineering for the emitter tool kit. “I really do have to go.”

She felt more than heard Tom’s sign of resignation. This time, his kiss was gentle. “I’ll see you when you get back,” he murmured against her lips.  
  
“Dinner,” B’Elanna promised.

“And more …”

Another kiss, and she almost lost herself. “I love you,” she whispered as she pulled back.

“Same,” Tom promised. B’Elanna’s heart stopped just a bit. She met his eyes and stroked his cheek before stepping away and heading out the door to engineering. If she looked back, the shuttle would never leave the bay.

***

If she was irritated at the doctor, it really wasn’t because of his incessant ramblings about his take on the world. She actually liked him, liked how he was incapable of guile, how he put everything out into the open no matter how people around him reacted. He was who he was, and that was something to honor. But, that being acknowledged, she didn’t want him digging around her personal life. A personal life she had put out into the public sphere by allowing that conversation with Tom to happen in the damn corridor on the ship. But, that internal reality didn’t stop her from wanting to throttle his holographic neck while he dropped innuendo after innuendo about her feelings for Tom. Just because she was in love with him didn’t mean she understood the emotions rattling around inside of her.

At least work gave her something to focus on. Fixing holographic projectors was becoming something she could do in her sleep and the matrix on this ship wasn’t that difficult to piece together. This, this made sense. This was something tangible. She could fix consoles and emitters and fly shuttles and make sure gadgets kept the universe spinning. When she was thinking about connecting relays, she wasn’t thinking about how Tom’s eyes lit up when he got excited about … anything. And hey, fixing the matrix of a cranky hologram was second nature.

She really didn’t know when it had happened. No, she knew when she’d realized she was in love with him. That was the easy part. But when had it gone from school yard teasing to taunting flirtation to wanting their dinners as friends to become nightcaps in her quarters? That was what confused her. Like with any engineering problem, she could trace the path back along the source, but the path didn’t always show the originating source.

There was the night, two weeks ago, when they’d finished the Day of Honor program. They’d been on the floor of his quarters, tweaking the last of the algorithms, a plate of pepperoni pizza between them. She’d tossed the PADD to the side and rolled onto her back, stretching out the sore muscles in her neck, and he’d leaned up over her, a question on his lips that had been forgotten when instead she’d pulled him down to kiss her. His hands had been inside her shirt before they realized what they were doing.

He’d groaned against her neck, her nails tightening in his hair as he asked the inevitable question. She’d wanted to snark at him, to make some comment about how they were clearly about to have sex and they needed to stop thinking and just do it, but the question hit her. Hard. After all, what were they doing? And was it just sex or was it something more? And why did it matter either way? It mattered because she was in love with him and if this ruined what they had together, she wasn’t sure she could adjust.

There was the walk on the holodeck, a month ago, when he’d chosen the beaches along the Holi Ocean on Betazed. She’d never been. He’d been rambling, excited about the few months he’d been stationed on the planet after graduation and how the best part was how the weather patterns were a bit unpredictable so at any time, the ocean could rise up. He’d loved taking small sail boats out into the waves to challenge his piloting acumen. In that moment, she’d realized how few people had ever really taken the time to get to know him, to understand what he really wanted in life. While he apologized for rambling, for dominating the conversation, she’d slipped her hand into his and he’d leaned into her space and then their lips met for the longest, sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced. They’d ended up down on the warm sand, ignoring the grit while their bodies molded to each other, and only the alarm that their holodeck time was coming to an end pulled them apart. The walk back to her quarters had been quiet and slightly awkward and she wanted to ask him to stay but the moment was over.

And the time when dinner and dessert had turned into sitting far too close together on her couch, reading aloud from the sequel to Women Warriors at the River of Blood. When Rogel had grabbed V’elala and pulled her flush against him, she’d seen the color rise in Tom’s cheeks. He looked at her and set the PADD down and put his hand against her chest,his thumb on the rise of her breast. “What makes your heart quicken, B’Elanna?”

She’d kissed him. Tossed all caution out the airlock and kissed him and he’d grabbed her and pulled her flush against him. The red alert klaxon screaming through the air as the ship rocked had thrown them apart.

Really, maybe it was time to accept that the universe didn’t want them to be together. Too bad that somewhere over the last year, she’d realized she was in love with him. As the isomorph reached into her chest and tried to kill her, she started to believe that maybe the universe was going to win this one.

***

Okay, so it was good that the Doctor knew because he didn’t care that Tom was hovering while he worked on her heart. Thankfully her Klingon anatomy had helped keep her going and it was quick repair. Still, the Captain had ordered her to take the rest of the night and she had the hours between being released from sickbay and when Tom got off shift to pace her quarters and convince herself this was the worst idea she’d ever had.

She and Tom were friends. Why … why was she doing this? Why was she risking their friendship? Still, she changed into a short red dress and braided a ribbon through her hair. The closer the time came, she replicated a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese naan to dip into some chicken tikka masala. Spicey, of course. She lit a candle and put on a pair of shoes and took them off again because she didn’t want to seem like she was trying too hard and God, why couldn’t he have just come back with her from sickbay because now she was overthinking and really she should just cancel.

A chime.

Fuck. Too late.

“Yes?” B’Elanna called.

The door slid open to reveal Tom. He’d taken time to stop at his quarters to change and she had to say that the black pants and blue shirt really worked for him. This … was going to happen. They were going to happen.

Really, they’d been happening for a while. This was just the acknowledgement.

Tom had one red rose in his fingers and he came in and handed it over, but his eyes never left hers. “You look amazing,” he murmured. Slowly, he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “And I am so glad the Doctor was with you on that mission because if he hadn’t been …”

“Technically, I was with the Doctor.” She put the rose to her nose and inhaled. This was the real thing, from the hydroponics bay. He hadn’t replicated it. “And I’m okay.”

“When I heard you were hurt, I lost my mind a bit.”

A teasing smile crossed B’Elanna’s face. “Just a bit, hmm?” His eyes were dark and his hand moved down from her face to her neck and B’Elanna felt her breath hitch. “We should have dinner …”

“Should we?”

She heard the tone in his voice, the switch. He was taking control, if only for a moment, and suddenly his lips were on hers and the rose fell to the floor while she pulled him back to her bed. He was right. Dinner could wait. Months of flirting and teasing had led here and she wasn’t going to waste a single moment. If history was any indication, right as things were getting good, they’d be pulled back to duty.

B’Elanna pushed her hands at the waist of his pants, bringing them up under his shirt, wanting it out of the way. The blood fire was rising in her and she leaned in, nipping at his neck. How far could she go? How much could he take? But his hand was in her hair and he pulled, hard, exposing her neck to his mouth and his initial nip became a bite and she growled as her body arched against him. She pulled his shirt up, laughing as they struggled to get it over his head, and when she tossed the fabric aside, Tom spun her in his arms and pulled her back flush against him, one hand down the front of her dress, his fingers tugging at her nipple, the other pushing up under her dress and inside the underwear she really shouldn’t have bothered with. Without warning, he pulled his fingers through her thatch of hair and parted her.

“Tell me what you like,” he growled into her ear.

B’Elanna reached up and wrapped her hand around his neck, digging her nails into him while reveling in the dual feeling of one of his hands working her breast while the other worked its way closer to her core. Sometimes, she wanted something soft and tender but right now, all of the sexual frustration of the last year was exploding through her baser Klingon instincts, instincts that so often had scared away lovers, and she felt the hiss escape her body. Her free hand joined the one between her legs and she linked their fingers. “I like it like this,” she gasped, showing him the subtle differences in Klingon anatomy, the differently placed nerve centers. She showed him how to roll his fingers, how to pinch and stroke. She was wet and desperate and didn’t want him to hurry, but she needed more. “Tom …” she gasped as her body tensed and his fingers tugged so hard on a nipple that she could feel the bruise forming.

He pulled back just enough to tug her underwear down her legs, but he didn’t rise again. Instead, he helped her out of the fabric and tossed it to join his shirt. “Sit on the edge of the bed, B’Elanna. I want to look at you.”

She groaned and obeyed, glad to give her wobbling legs a break. Sitting, she let Tom spread her legs and she hitched the skirt of her dress up to give him a better view. He pulled her legs up over his shoulders and parted her, his gaze focused on how his fingers worked and explored her. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

She felt it. Felt worshiped and honored and when his mouth finally descended on her, B’Elanna fell back on the bed and pulled a pillow over her face to muzzle her scream. Her hips arched up as he worked and suckled her, as his fingers moved in and out of her, and lights exploded behind her eyes as the rage of release took her. She shattered, crying his name as he kept her going, taking her up and beyond where her sensitive range was used to playing.

Sometime between when the lights exploded and when she could catch her breath, Tom had joined her on the bed and she opened her eyes to see him leaning over her. “Get my dress off me,” she ordered, sitting up. He’d taken the time to shuck his pants. Thank god.

Naked, she stretched out next to him on the bed, her skin still tingling, and raked her nails down his body to his hips. Human men were not so different from Klingon or Bajoran ones. The anatomy was basically the same, and the pieces still fit together in just the right ways. Still, she was always struck by how delicate they seemed as compared to lovers from other species she’d had. Tom was so pale it was almost comical, but right now, she just wanted to touch him. “Tell me how to touch you,” she said, echoing his words from earlier. “What do you want?”

“Right now?” His hand was on her waist. “Right now I want you to get on top of me and let me watch you while you ride me. We’ll get into specific details later.”

B’Elanna laughed and obliged, rising up above him to take him inside of her. For a long minute they stilled, adjusting to each other, when Tom’s eyes met hers, B’Elanna knew they’d made the right choice to do this, to be together. Slowly, she started to move, watching him watch her, watching his hands move across her body, feeling him pull her nipples and dig his nails into her back and roll her so sensitive clit between his fingers while they both exploded into oblivion. She wasn’t sure who came louder and only later did she feel a vague flash of remorse for her neighbors. But they’d get used to it.

“Fuck …” Tom groaned as she rolled off of him. B’Elanna took a few deep breaths, willing her blood to stop pounding through her. “Why the hell did we wait so long to do this?”

“Because we’re idiots,” she said, laughing. B’Elanna dragged herself to lie in his arms, her head on his chest. There were red, angry tracks left behind by her nails and she traced her fingertip down one, watching his skin pebble in reaction. “I’ll admit, I was a bit worried I’d break you. You hold up pretty well, for a human.” For her humor, she felt a flash of nerves. The truth was, sometimes she did want it slow and sweet and gentle. She wanted to be cherished and not torn apart. How would he react when she told him that? What if this was just what he --

“Come back to me,” Tom said. “You’ve gone off into B’Elanna thinks too much land.”

She groaned and nipped his nipple. “That’s a place, huh?”

“Yep. I discovered it a long time ago.” His fingers stroked through her hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“Sex,” she admitted.

“I’ll need a few minutes,” Tom chuckled. She pinched his side.

“Seriously … you don’t just want to be with me for rough Klingon sex, right?”

He tensed and then sat up and she looked into eyes that, yet again, she’d hurt. “If that was all I wanted,” he said, stroking her cheek, “I’d have taken what you were offering when Vorik did that whole blood fever thing. I’ll take you rough and screaming my name and I’ll take it smooth and vanilla. It’s with you. That’s what I care about.” He kissed her, softly, and she melted into his arms as he pushed her onto her back. The kiss went on forever, gentle and exploring, lips soothing where nails and teeth had left their mark. This time, when he moved inside of her, there was no rough and tumble ride to the finish, only eyes locking and hands joining as she wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked against him. Her climax was smaller, but no less powerful.

In the gentle glow of the lights above her bed, she cuddled against him, watching the stars sail by. At least, until his stomach growled. She laughed. “I replicated dinner, but it’s probably cold by now.”

“Put it in the warmer for five minutes. We need fuel for the next round.”

B’Elanna laughed and slipped out of bed, sliding the discarded dress over herself as she moved to pour the wine and bring the naan over. When the masala was warmed up, she shed her dress and joined Tom on the bed again. Later, she’d grumble about crumbs and spilled drops of wine on her sheets. But tonight was about them, and this, and almost losing each other all over again, but finding each other right where they needed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> You Are Like That,
> 
> a moon, and then the night sky  
> around the moon, a violet-blue  
> made whole by phases  
> as the moon tries to submerge itself and  
> fails. Why do you pretend to go,  
> then surge back a slice at a time, just when  
> I've given you up? Sometimes fog washes in  
> from the strait and you are entirely  
> gone. What is it like to be  
> so _gone?_ Do you feel my moth-mind fumbling  
> you up there in the dark?  
> I'm like the schoolgirl at the back of the class  
> who can't help raising her hand toward the ceiling  
> even when she can't answer  
> the question, lifting herself  
> by desire alone. 
> 
> Do you care about questions? Or are you  
> both sides of the moon-coin now, subduing  
> even chance? One night in a car I raced  
> beside you up the mountains,  
> just to rise with you for once, instead of  
> like now, drifting toward my own night,  
> wondering if I can stay missing long enough  
> to discover sleep's lost, alternate door, the one  
> round as a moon with no threshold-  
> a door so open it's hard to find, even  
> when you do. Did passing through  
> happen something like that,  
> just because a dying occurred? or was dying itself  
> greedily restorative on its far side? or  
> was it better than any detective story: a charmed opening,  
> casual as a teacher pointing  
> to the lucky one who gets to erase  
> the blackboard, except for a few yellow half-  
> words at the top, which can only partly  
> be reached and so are freed to  
> float there for days like the left-over ghost  
> of a conjugation: _He was. I am._
> 
> Open, like half of any-  
> thing: the way a tree,  
> even in a treachery of moon-  
> light, never worries about having enough  
> birds. Or, in the fullness of day-  
> light, that unspecific opening  
> that legs us importat-  
> antly half-see  
> when the question, as it reaches,  
> knows it isn't  
> tall enough. 
> 
> You Are Like That, by Tess Gallagher
> 
> Dear Ghosts, available for purchase here: https://bookshop.org/books/dear-ghosts/9781555974930


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